


Klaine Advent 2018

by lilinas



Series: Expectation Fails [23]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Chastity Device, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, and other yummy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 16,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: Yet another series of 24 vignettes in the Expectation Fails 'verse.





	1. Athlete

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again! The chapter title will be the prompt for each day. I'm so excited to be writing these boys again!

“I didn’t agree to this.”

Kurt slid his arms around Blaine’s waist and pulled him back into an embrace. “I think what you meant to say was, ‘I hear and obey, my master.’”

“I would never say that.”

“Well you should,” Kurt purred, “because that would be so hot.”

Blaine stared at the clothes Kurt had laid out on the bed. “I’m fine with the tank top. And even the shorts. I can do gym twink if that’s what you want.” He leaned away from Kurt and picked up the strip of pink fabric. “But I can’t wear this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not appropriate, Kurt.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s athletic wear.”

“It’s sex wear!”

Kurt pulled Blaine back against him again. “It’s a jock strap. It literally has the word ‘jock’ in the name. What could be more appropriate for the gym?”

Blaine sighed. He knew he was going to lose. But he tried anyhow. He always tried. Probably because it made Kurt so happy when he finally surrendered. “Why do you care what I wear under my shorts?”

“Because,” Kurt said, plucking the pink jock strap out of Blaine’s hand and holding it up so he could see just how the straps would cup his ass, “I want you to feel those silky shorts against your bare skin. I want you to know your ass is bare so that I can take you whenever I choose. I want to think about how it must be driving you crazy.”

Blaine had to take a couple of breaths before he could speak. “So I take it you’re going to come and watch me work out?”

Kurt hummed in Blaine’s ear. He dropped the jock strap. It fluttered back to the pile on the bed. “I thought I’d snag that exercise bike that faces the free weights and pretend I’m a Roman emperor on my throne watching one of my gladiators push himself to new heights of achievement for my entertainment.” His hand slid down Blaine’s torso to cup his cock cage. “I also thought I’d unlock this for the day. But only if you wear the jock.”

Blaine’s stomach clenched. “I’ll . . . I’ll get hard. I can’t, at the gym . . .” He tried to make a sentence but the words wouldn’t come together right. Not with Kurt fondling his trapped cock. His incarceration hadn’t been long, but Kurt’s teasing had been relentless.

“I thought of that. The jock is two sizes too small. It’ll hold you nice and tight. It won’t keep you from getting hard, but between it and the tank top, I think the humiliation will be mostly imaginary.” He reached lower and fondled Blaine’s heavy balls. “And when we get home we can play. You can be an Olympian, and perform your exercises for me the way they did.” He put his lips to Blaine’s ear and whispered, “Naked.”

Blaine groaned. “Oh fuck, Kurt.”

“What was that?” Kurt prompted.

“I . . . I hear and obey, my master.”

He could practically hear Kurt’s grin. “That’s my good boy.”


	2. Bury

“I made you some –”

“Shhhh!!” Kurt waved a hand at Blaine. He didn’t turn to look, but a Blaine-shaped blob moved into his peripheral vision and sat down in the empty rocking chair next to Kurt’s. It leaned and put something on the narrow table between them. Kurt ignored that. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anywhere near as interesting as the vision currently occupying the far corner of their yard.

“What are you –?”

“I said hush!” Kurt hissed. “Don’t distract me.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Blaine gasped. “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson!”

Kurt swatted blindly at Blaine’s shape. “He’ll hear you!”

“Are you perving on our gardener?!”

Kurt turned away from the shovel-wielding hunk to glare at his husband. “How dare you! I do not _perv_. Besides, he’s over twenty-one.”

“And you're old enough to be his grandfather.”

“Well thank you very much for that reminder. Feel free to go back inside and leave me to my view.”

Blaine didn’t look like he was planning to move, so Kurt turned his attention back to the boy . . . man, young man, in the yard. He’d taken off his shirt in the heat, and the flexing muscles in his back, the curve of his ass in tight denim every time he bent over . . .

“What’s he doing?” Blaine whispered, unexpectedly close in Kurt’s ear.

Kurt jumped, then glared at Blaine again. “He’s obviously digging a hole.”

“Because . . .?”

Kurt sighed. “Because I found a dead possum over there when I was cutting flowers this morning. He’s burying it for us.”

“Most people just wrap them in newspaper and put them in the trash.”

“Most people don’t have Terry for a gardener.”

“I knew it!” Blaine crowed in a whisper. “I knew you were perving.”

“Um . . . Mr. Hummel-Anderson?”

They both turned. While they’d been distracted Terry had approached the porch.

“Yes Terry?” Kurt said, all casual innocence. This close he could see the sweat glistening on the gardener’s well-defined pecs, his washboard abs, the brown submissive’s cuff on his right wrist . . .

“I think it’s deep enough now.”

“Thank you, Terry,” Blaine said.

Kurt stood up and peered toward the hole. “You’re probably right. But let’s go a little deeper. Just to be sure. We get so many creatures out here, and I don’t know what I’d do if I walked out one morning and stepped on a decaying, dug-up carcass . . .” He feigned a delicate shudder, just for effect.

“Whatever you say, sir.” Terry nodded affably and turned back to the hole.

Kurt sat back down and took a sip of the iced tea Blaine had brought him, the _sir_ ringing in his ears. “You know I can punish you for trying to thwart me like that,” he murmured to Blaine, without taking his eyes off of Terry’s flexing back.

“Have you no scruples?”

“Not when I have _that_ calling me sir,” Kurt said.

“I am sitting right here.”

“And I will remind you that Dr. Morgan specifically said that your prostate issues don’t preclude me locking this up,” he reached over and put a hand on Blaine’s crotch, “so maybe you . . .”

Kurt froze, then turned slowly to Blaine, who at least had the good grace to blush.

“You. Little. Hypocrite.”

Blaine was hard. And at seventy-seven years old, that wasn’t a thing that just happened spontaneously anymore. At seventy-seven there had to be a more-than-decent reason for Blaine to be hard.

“You were talking about punishing me,” Blaine said, offering Kurt his best innocent face. “Of course it turned me on.”

“Not that fast, it didn’t.”

“You know how much I love the cage.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “Now who’s digging himself into a hole? Keep going and this dick is going to get a good cropping too, before I lock it up.”

“Please, sir . . .” Blaine whined. To his credit, he tried to make it sound like he was begging _not_ to be cropped, but he failed spectacularly.

“You’ve been a very bad boy. I can see I’ve been much too lenient with you lately. Inside and strip,” Kurt commanded.

Blaine’s mouth twisted. “Um . . . could we wait until Terry’s done with the possum?”

Kurt gasped. “Blaine Devon Hummel-Anderson! Are you perving on our gardener?!”

“He is . . . very nice to look at.”

“I am sitting right here!”

“Well, maybe you could beat my ass too. For suggesting it. After Terry's done, of course.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s dick. “At this rate, you’ll be lucky if I stop with your ass.” He turned back to watch Terry, but kept his hand where it was.

“God, I love you,” Blaine breathed.

Kurt watched his hunky gardener dig, and smiled.


	3. Camera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to curlysupergirl, who suggested some middle-aged Klaine. I guess you could say Blaine at least is middle-aged in this one. Kurt thinks he is, but he is wrong. ;)

“Non, Kurt, à gauche. Just a little, s’il te plait. And maybe try to look dominant.”

Blaine sipped his coffee and watched Kurt turn right instead of left. Claude, the photographer, sighed so loudly Blaine could easily hear it from the back of the loft.

“Okay, something new. Sit on the bench. Relax, mon cher. Breathe. I cannot shoot you if you don’t breathe.”

Kurt sat. Claude sighed again.

“Let’s take a break, oui? Have some wine maybe.” Claude handed his camera to his assistant and beelined for the kitchenette. He shot Blaine a pleading look as he passed.

Blaine didn’t usually come to Kurt’s photo shoots. Mostly he didn’t want to watch as Kurt put on his dominant face for people who weren’t him. But this time Kurt had asked him specially. It was Kurt’s last shoot for Pieta. His last time modeling for this – or any – line. After this, he would be concentrating full-time on designing. Paolo had already promised him a full collection for the spring season and was hinting about helping him finance his own line. Kurt had been ecstatic.

Blaine grabbed a glass of champagne from the sideboard and brought it to where Kurt still sat on the wrought iron prop bench, under hot, bright lights.

“Drink?”

Kurt waved the glass away. “I can’t. Not in wardrobe.”

“Come on, Kurt. Live dangerously,” Blaine coaxed. “There are six different jackets on that rack. You can afford the risk.”

Kurt huffed, but he took the glass and drained it.

“Okay, well, I didn’t really mean that dangerously . . .”

“I’m old, Blaine.”

“Excuse me?”

Kurt handed him the glass, got up and stalked to the far corner of the loft, away from where Claude was huddled with a group of Pieta underlings. Blaine followed, so close that he almost dropped the glass when Kurt turned on his heel and poked him in the chest. “I’m old. I’m an old man. My youth is over.”

“You’re thirty-one.” Blaine said. “Where is this coming from?”

“I can’t model anymore.”

“Kurt. You chose not to model anymore.”

“Yes, well, it’s very convenient, don’t you think? That Paolo wants me to design instead, right when I’m thirty and old?”

“He literally begged you to keep modeling.”

Kurt sniffed. “Because he knew I had too much self-respect to accept. I have crow’s feet, Blaine –”

“You do not.”

“– and I’m not going to let them get blown up and hung over Times Square for everyone to see. I’m done. I’m over. I’m . . .”

“You’re panicking,” Blaine said. “Stop.”

“I’m never going to be young again!”

Blaine grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “Stop this. You’re gorgeous, Kurt. Everyone thinks so. You could keep modeling for years. But _you_ don’t want to because _you_ have always wanted to design. And now you can, full time. It’s your dream. So stop all this nonsense about being old and tell me what’s really going on. Before Claude has so much wine he can’t focus the camera.”

Kurt stared at Blaine for a few dramatic beats, then threw himself into his soulmate’s arms. “I’m scared,” he whispered in Blaine’s ear.

“Of what?”

“This is it. My swan song. My final shoot. It doesn’t matter how good I’ve been in the past. _This_ is what people will remember. What if I fuck it up? I mean, I always think that, but there’s always been another shoot, you know? If I don’t get it right . . . they’ll do it again. This is _it_.”

“Watch me.”

“Huh?”

Blaine pushed Kurt away and held him by the shoulders. “Watch me. When you’re shooting.”

“What will that . . .?”

“Just trust me.”

“Okay everybody, let’s start again!” Nikki, one of the Pieta underlings, called out.

Kurt trudged back toward the set.

“Don’t forget,” Blaine called after him.

Kurt disappeared behind a small crowd of people touching up makeup and arranging his clothes. Blaine returned to where he’d been standing before, deliberately positioning himself right behind Claude, in Kurt’s peripheral sightline.

“Okay everyone. Let’s try this again,” Claude said, sounding more cheerful than he must have felt. “Kurt, cher, give me everything you’ve got.”

Blaine glanced around. Everyone in the loft was watching Kurt. He took a breath and pressed his hand to the front of his pants. He stroked himself through the fabric, praying that Kurt would look. Blaine was absolutely not allowed to touch himself without permission. It had been rule number two since their first weekend together.

Kurt looked. He gasped. The he glared.

“What is wrong?” Claude asked.

“Nothing,” Kurt said firmly.

“Well it is a nothing I like. Keep going that way. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.”

Blaine slipped his other hand between his legs and rolled his balls.

Kurt’s shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed.

“Oui! Now look at the camera. Kurt est arrivé. Enfin. Don’t stop, cher. Just like that.

* * * * *

When Kurt’s phone rang he grabbed it from the dresser and thumbed it on. “Hello?”

“Kurt! Claude showed me the proofs. Oh my god, they’re amazing. The best ever. Everyone here is going crazy over them.”

Kurt mouthed “ _Paolo_ ” to Blaine, who hung by his wrists from the ceiling, gasping for breath after the first half of his punishment flogging.

“Please tell me you’ll think about changing your mind. I am sure you can handle modeling and designing at the same time. Who could ever replace you, my darling?”

“You’re very sweet, Paolo,” Kurt said, “but we both know it’s time for me to move on. I need to concentrate what’s coming next.” He gave Blaine what he hoped was an evil grin.

“You are going to change your mind. I won’t rest until you do.”

“Goodnight Paolo.”

He put down the phone and picked up the flogger again.

“Did Paolo . . . like the pictures?” Blaine panted.

Kurt ran hand over the bright red skin between Blaine’s shoulder blades. “He loved them.”

“Well . . . doesn’t that count for something? I know I disobeyed. But I helped.”

Kurt lifted Blaine’s chin with the handle of the flogger. Blaine’s eyes were dark, bottomless, and full of pain and desire. He was exactly where Kurt knew Blaine loved to be. “Nice try, sweetie,” Kurt said. “I still owe you twenty-five on your ass. Count.”


	4. Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They give me "deputy" - what do they expect me to do?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a note guys - I usually try to answer all of my comments, but between this and Bitchmas, you guys are totally spoiling me with comments (and please don't stop, they're like air to us writers). Since I'm trying to write two one-shots a day, close to 2000 words on average, which is like a double NANO in 24 days . . . I'm going to give myself a break and only answer asks that have questions or things I need to respond to. So I wanted to take a minute to say THANK YOU to all of you who are commenting. I love you, you're amazing and you're keeping me going on this marathon. Every single time I get a notification I stop whatever I'm doing to read, and then I actually thank you out loud and tell you you're awesome. So imagine me doing that. I honestly can't believe anyone still reads Glee, but as long as there's even one of you out there, I'll be writing it! <33

“Officer, please. I wasn’t going that fast.”

Kurt spun Blaine around and shoulder-checked him into the wall. Height had its advantages. He pulled Blaine’s hands behind his back and closed the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Are those really necessary?” Blaine asked. “I was speeding. I’m not exactly a danger to anyone.”

Kurt turned Blaine back around and peered at him through dark aviator lenses. “I don’t know what they do in New York, but here we have very specific ways of dealing with lawbreakers.” He spun Blaine back again to face the wall. Dizzy was good, he figured. If Blaine was dizzy enough he might not notice the way Kurt fumbled as he tried to pull the billy club from its loop on his belt.

“I wasn’t even going that fast,” Blaine protested again.

Kurt slid the club between Blaine’s legs and tapped one of his thighs. “Legs apart, boy.”

Blaine whimpered and spread his legs as wide as they could go. “Why do I need to –?”

“Who knows what you might be hiding.” Kurt stepped closer, but stumbled in his heavy boots. They were two sizes too big – the best the costume shop could come up with. “Fucking teenage fantasies!” he grumbled as he pulled his feet back under himself.

“What?” Blaine asked.

“I said . . . do you think this is some kind of teenage fantasy?” Kurt made his voice extra gruff and slid the baton up Blaine’s thigh to tap at his perineum. “I can tell you’re hard from here, boy.”

“No, sir, I swear!” Blaine protested.

“Really?” Kurt pressed close and growled in Blaine’s ear. “Before you answer, remember it’s a crime to lie to an officer of the law.” He swatted Blaine’s crotch with the stick.

Blaine moaned. He was pretending to be afraid, but the way his ass arched back totally ruined the illusion. “I’m sorry, officer. I know it’s wrong. But it feels so good.”

Kurt hit him again. “You like that do you? I’ve got something else you might like. This club isn’t the biggest thing I keep in these pants . . .”

Blaine burst out laughing.

“Hey!” Kurt protested.

“I’m sorry!” Blaine said through his giggles. “But really, Kurt. ‘This club isn’t the . . . ‘” He collapsed to the floor, helpless to continue.

Kurt pulled the aviators off and tossed them on the bed. “This is your fantasy, Blaine. I’m doing my best here. Predatory deputy is not exactly a role I was born to play.”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to upset you!” Blaine pushed to his knees – his hands were still trapped in the very real cuffs – and shuffled closer to Kurt. “I’m sorry. But you have to admit it was funny. I’m pretty sure I saw someone say that exact line in a porno once.” He started to giggle again but Kurt stopped him with an icy glare. “Seriously. I’m sorry. Honestly, the whole thing was ridiculous. I guess some teenage fantasies aren’t really worth revisiting.”

“Hmm,” Kurt huffed.

“You didn’t really want to do it anyway. I had to persuade you.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Kurt allowed. “I was sort of looking forward to violating you with the billy club. And I was supposed to get a blow job out of it, too.”

Blaine shuffled closer and leaned in carefully to kiss Kurt’s pouting lips. “You’ve still got the club,” he pointed out. “And I’m still cuffed. If you want to use my body to entertain yourself and get off . . . I’m pretty sure I signed a contract that says go for it.”

Kurt stood up and looked down his nose at Blaine. “In that case, I think you’d better get over here and put that mouth to some use, boy.”

Blaine grinned. “Whatever you say, officer.”


	5. Exclude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bitch! It took me forever to come up with something. So it's short and hopefully sweet.

“So Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip got married and ruled the kingdom together for years and years. And they lived –”

“Happily ever after!!” Annie yelled it out. Blaine smiled from where he hovered outside her bedroom door. Even at four she knew how every fairy tale ended.

“How did you know?” Kurt asked, his voice heavy with faux suspicion. “Have you heard this story before?”

“They all end like that, Uncle Kurt!”

“What?!”

Annie giggled. Blaine couldn’t help peeking around the door. He loved to watch Kurt with their nieces. Kurt spied him and smiled.

“I have a question, Uncle Kurt,” Willa asked seriously. She was older and knew it.

“What, sweetie?”

“Why did Mel . . . Melfacilent curse Aurora?”

“Because she couldn’t go to the party, silly!” Annie told her sister.

“But she did go. And they said they were sorry. But she still hurt the princess.”

“Because she’s a _witch_ ,” Annie insisted, in a tone of absolute certainty.

“Mommy says when people do bad things, sometimes it’s because they feel bad.”

“Your mommy is very smart,” Kurt told Willa. “I think it hurt Maleficent when they didn’t invite her. Maybe she was excited about the baby too, and she wanted to be part of the celebration. And when she was left out, she felt so bad, she didn’t know what else to do. It can really hurt when you’re excluded from something important.”

“That would make me feel really sad,” Willa said.

“Me too, sweetie.”

Kurt’s eyes met Blaine’s and one eyebrow twitched up. Blaine sighed and turned back to their room.

* * * * *

“Alright. I surrender. You can come and watch,” Blaine said, when Kurt joined him in his old bedroom, which they always shared when they visited Finn and Nicole. “But only for the first one.”

“Really?!” Kurt leaped onto the bed, pulled Blaine’s book from his hands, and kissed him hard. “About time!”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Are you kidding me? Blaine. You’re teaching again. You haven’t taught, really, like in an actual classroom, since back in Ohio. Of course I want to see it. And if I indulge in a just a little private reminiscing about how we –”

“Kurt!”

“Why are _you_ so against this?” Kurt asked

“It’s just music theory,” Blaine said with a shrug. “You have no interest in music theory.”

“Blaine.”

“And you’ll be distracting. What if _I_ start . . . reminiscing. And getting distracted. And then . . .”

“I will sit in the very back row, I promise. I won’t make a sound. I’ll pretend to take notes so people will think I’m just another adult returning to college to follow his dream of a music degree. Also, you’re wearing the cock cage. Just in case.”

“Kurt!” Blaine said it on a groan but he was laughing too.

Kurt rolled them over in bed so Blaine was on top, and caressed his back. “I just really, really want to be there. Because of how we started _and_ because you’re going to be amazing. And I like to be there when you do amazing things.” He pulled Blaine down into another kiss. Blaine never could resist Kurt’s kisses. They always wiped away anything that might feel wrong.

“You could have just ordered me, you know,” Blaine said as he settled onto Kurt’s chest. “I would have had to obey.”

Kurt shook his head. “That would be unethical. I like to use my powers for good.”

“So it’s more ethical to use our nieces to guilt me into in?”

“Absolutely. You could have stood your ground. You made a free, unencumbered choice to cave.”

 _You keep telling yourself that_ , Blaine was much too smart to say out loud.


	6. Feed

“Kurt, darling, you’ve outdone yourself again. I’m green with envy.”

Kurt pecked Lars on both cheeks and patted Bruce’s head. “You’re late. Everyone else is here already.”

“It was all Bruce’s fault." Lars handed Kurt a gaily-wrapped package. "He couldn’t find the Christmas wrapping paper we bought.”

Bruce growled from where he knelt on the floor.

“Never mind,” Kurt said. “There’s wine and cheese in the kitchen and you can help yourself to treats.” Kurt gestured to the corner where the treats were trembling slightly as Blaine breathed.

“This is even better than when he was your Christmas tree.” Their friend Nathan put an arm around Kurt and handed him a glass of champagne. “I keep trying to get Sean to do this to me. He’s still hung up on the whole other doms looking at me naked thing.” He sighed. “Blaine’s so lucky to have you.” Nathan pitched that last part louder, for Sean’s benefit, no doubt.

Kurt sipped the champagne but put it down after only a taste. He couldn’t drink tonight. He kept one eye on Blaine at all times as he nibbled cheese and socialized. It was only their scene friends here tonight, of course. The ones who were okay with seeing Blaine naked in the corner tied to a bondage cross. The ones Blaine was okay with playing out his objectification fantasies in front of. And Kurt had to admit – while he’d never fully _understood_ what Blaine got, emotionally, out of being fitted out like a piece of furniture in front of other people, he could absolutely appreciate the final effect.

It was true cross – not an “X” – and Blaine was bound to it with his arms straight out to the sides. In each hand he held a basket of cookies – beautiful snowflakes and Christmas trees and elves that Kurt had decorated with painstaking care. The bondage kept his arms in place but Blaine had to work to remember to keep his hands closed around the handles. Which was not an insignificant challenge when he started to float into his headspace.

I didn’t stop with the baskets though. Blaine also wore a tray, like an old-fashioned cigarette girl, but instead of hanging from a cord around his neck, the tray hung from chains attached to his nipple clamps, the base secured by a belt around his waist. And instead of cigarettes, Blaine’s tray held chocolate cupcakes, mounded with vanilla frosting and delicate candy sprinkles and pearls. If he breathed too hard the tray pulled on his nipples and threatened to overturn, so he had to take in air slowly, with careful attention.

His cock was the best part. After a couple of weeks of teasing and denial, it stood hard and upright, trapped in a tight cock ring to ensure obedience and sheathed in the pièce de résistance – a flexible wire contraption that fitted tight to it and sent out radiating arms, from which Kurt had hung a dozen pink and white candy canes.

All in all, he looked festive, gorgeous, desperate, and hot as hell.

Blaine wasn’t blindfolded or gagged. He’d insisted he was ready, this time, to see how their friends reacted to him. He wanted to watch them ignore him as they helped themselves to the desserts. And though he trembled gently, and his cock occasionally flexed with need, making the candy canes dance around it, he really did seem calm.

“Bruce is already hitting the eggnog.” Sean appeared at Kurt’s side. He slid an arm around Nathan’s waist. “Be prepared for a barked rendition of Oh Holy Night any minute now.” He gestured at Blaine's cock decoration. “That’s amazing. Did you make it yourself?”

“Hot glue is a miracle,” Kurt said.

“Well, I’m taking a cupcake,” Lars called out as he swept over to Blaine and, although they were all identical, took a very long time selecting the one he wanted. Kurt kept careful watch, but Blaine seemed to hardly notice their friend’s attention, so lost was he in his submissive fantasy.

So Kurt relaxed, and ate more cheese, while their friends laughed and drank and barked and took their treats off of Blaine’s body. As things were winding down, Kurt made his own way over to pluck a candy cane off the wire dick frame. He thought about saying something. Just a check-in, to make sure Blaine was okay. But he wanted to give Blaine his trust as well as this experience. So he took his candy, peeled the wrapper off and popped it in his mouth, then turned around without a word.

Behind him the candy canes rustled as they danced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't post in time last night. I'll (hopefully) get another in today to catch up!


	7. Gradual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for KlaineUnite, because they asked, and the day's prompt actually worked to make it happen! We pick up right after the last installment ended . . .
> 
> I'm slowly catching up!

When everyone was gone, Kurt gathered up glasses and plates and carried them to the kitchen. He picked up trash, wiped tabletops, and returned everything to its usual order. The instinct to run and check on Blaine was strong, but this was the part that would really challenge Blaine. When he expected it to be over and Kurt dragged it out just a bit longer. Just long enough for Blaine to start to worry that he’d been forgotten.

When he finished cleaning up, Kurt filled a glass with water and stuck in a straw. He began to hum along with the Christmas carol his Echo was playing as he eased closer to Blaine. Blaine’s eyes were open but fixed in fierce concentration on a point somewhere beyond Kurt. He didn’t even seem to notice Kurt’s approach. Kurt put the water down and came at Blaine from the side, let his humming get louder, then gently breathed “Blaine?”

“Hmm.” Blaine didn’t move an inch, but his little noise told Kurt that he was at least to some degree present.

“I’m going to touch you now sweetheart.”

Blaine didn’t respond. He still stared at the wall, so Kurt put a hand on his shoulder, barely touching his skin. Slowly, gradually, he increased the pressure until his hand was resting fully on Blaine’s body. “I’m going to start taking things off you. I want you to tell me if anything feels wrong, or if you need more time. Do you understand, Blaine?”

Blaine hummed again.

Kurt stroked out along Blaine’s arm until he reached his hand, still clenched around the empty cookie basket. He cupped Blaine’s fist in his own. “You can let go now. Open your hand, sweetie. Just this one. Let me have the basket.”

For a long moment he wasn’t sure Blaine would – or even could – comply. But then, with a tiny whine, Blaine slowly opened his fingers and released the basket. Kurt slid his arm through the handle then stepped around Blaine to the other side. “Now this one, baby. Let it go for me.”

It didn’t take as long the second time. Kurt put the baskets right down on the floor and moved in front of Blaine. Blaine’s gaze remained fixed on the wall beyond Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt cupped Blaine’s cheeks with his hands but didn’t try to move his head. “I want you to look at me now, Blaine. I’m going to take the nipple clamps off and I want to know you’re with me, at least a little bit.”

It took longer than either of the cookie baskets, but just when Kurt was starting to panic that Blaine was too far gone to be reached, Blaine’s eyes shifted and locked with Kurt’s.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was hoarse and brittle.

Kurt smiled and stroked the curls behind Blaine’s ears with his fingers. “Yeah, sweetie. It’s me. We’re all done. Everything’s perfect. You were perfect Blaine. I’m so proud of you.”

Blaine’s brows pulled together, wrinkling his forehead. “Hurts.”

“I know baby. I’m going to help you. We just have to go slow. You’ve been tied like this a long time.”

“They . . .” Blaine swallowed hard. Kurt produced the water glass and held the straw to Blaine’s lips.

“. . . gone?” Blaine finished after a sip.

Kurt nodded. “It’s just you and me now. You did it. You were amazing. I love you so much.”

“Me too,” Blaine whispered. His lips curled up the tiniest bit.

“I have to take off the tray and the clamps now, sweetheart. Are you ready?”

“Hmmm.”

Kurt detached the tray part from the chains first. Blaine hissed as the movement jostled the clamps.

“I know, sweetie. I’m being as gentle as I can. Deep breath now Blaine.”

Kurt took off both clamps at once – might as well get it over with – and Blaine cried out but Kurt was there to press his forehead to Blaine’s. “Breathe, baby. It’ll all be over soon.”

Blaine closed his eyes as Kurt gently massaged his nipples. He whined at the sensation, but when he opened his eyes again his gaze was less cloudy than before.

“Hey,” Blaine said to Kurt with a vague, fuzzy smile.

“Hey. I’m going to take the frame off your dick now.”

“Okay.”

Kurt lifted his ingenious contraption away, then trailed his fingers along Blaine’s cock. Still hard after so long – it must be painful as fuck, but Blaine didn’t complain as Kurt stroked it gently.

“That feels so good,” Blaine murmured.

“Do you think it’ll stay hard when I take off the cock ring?”

“I think I may come when you take off the cock ring.”

“Really?” Kurt stared into Blaine’s eyes. “After all that?”

Blaine gave Kurt a real smile. “There’s a reason I wanted to do this you know.”

Kurt couldn’t resist. He stretched the rubber ring and pulled it off Blaine’s cock. Before it even cleared the head, Blaine moaned and his dick spurted white come that narrowly missed Kurt’s trousers and spattered on the floor.

Kurt stared at Blaine and shook his head. “I can’t . . . did that even feel good?”

“Good is a . . . complicated concept right now,” Blaine said.

“A four-syllable word. I’m impressed.”

“I’m amazing. You said so yourself.”

Kurt stroked Blaine’s cheek and grinned. “I was right. Are you okay if I untie you now?”

“Please. Want to collapse in your arms.”

Kurt laughed. He unbound Blaine’s legs first then released his left arm and pulled it down to rest on his shoulder. Blaine listed to the left and Kurt shifted his weight to keep Blaine steady as he released the right.

They ended up on the floor. At least Kurt managed to maneuver Blaine down in a relatively controlled slide. Once they were down he plucked the throw from the sofa and pulled it over Blaine’s body. It dragged through the semen on the floor, but Kurt let it go with a wince. Small sacrifice compared to what Blaine had achieved. 

After a few more sips of water, Blaine seemed fully present. Sleepy, but there. He rested his head in Kurt’s lap and smiled up at him. “I love you so much."

“Good. I can’t carry you though. You’re going to have to get to the bed under your own steam.”

“Just give me a few more minutes and I think I can manage it.”

“Really?” Kurt asked. Blaine’s limbs seemed limp and useless to him.

“I get to cuddle in bed with you. The incentive is strong,” Blaine said.

They were quiet, together, for a moment.

“Was it . . .”

“It was everything, Kurt. Everything I imagined and more.”

“Really?”

“Did you miss the fact that I had an orgasm just because you took off the cock ring?”

Kurt laughed. He hadn’t been concerned, not really. They had too much experience with each other. He knew he could trust Blaine’s instincts about what he wanted and his own instinct to push Blaine farther than he’d anticipated.

Blaine twisted and looked up at Kurt from where he lay cradled in his soulmate’s lap. “You make my every fantasy come true. And then some. You’re almost perfect, Kurt.”

“Almost?”

“If you were perfect you’d be able to teleport me to our bed. As long as I have to walk, you’re stuck with almost.”

Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine’s hair. “I love you more than words can express.”

Blaine smiled up at him. “Well that’s worth walking for.”


	8. House

“I forgot how beautiful this house is,” Blaine breathed in wonder.

“Yes, well Rachel never does anything by half measures,” Kurt responded as he dropped his bag in the foyer and peeled off his snow-dusted coat.

Blaine de-bagged and de-coated too. “Well I for one am happy to enjoy her excess.” He draped his coat on the antique mahogany stand then turned and wrapped his arms around Kurt. “And yours.”

“Mine?” Kurt asked.

“You know,” Blaine said, peppering Kurt’s face with gentle kisses. “Your excess. With me. All those excessive things you like to do to me. In fact, I suggest we start excessing right now.”

“There’s just one little thing,” Kurt said as Blaine kissed his way down his neck. “We can’t have sex here.”

Blaine laughed. Kurt didn’t.

“Wait, really?” Blaine asked.

Kurt extricated himself from Blaine’s embrace and made his way into the living room. “She asked us not to.”

“She what?!”

“When she gave me the key. She just sort of tossed it out. ‘By the way, please don’t have sex in the house.’”

Blaine gaped at him. “She was kidding.”

“Does that sound like a joke Rachel Berry would make?”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

Kurt grimaced. “I didn’t know how to tell you. You were so excited to come and play in the snow and –”

“And _fuck_ ,” Blaine said.

“Well I’m sorry. It was too late to change our plans. We’re here and we can’t have sex. If we do, Rachel’s going to know. And I will never hear the end of it.”

Blaine just stared, and tried to rally his sinking heart. “Rachel’s doing eight shows a week at the Winter Garden for god knows how long. She and Tim aren’t going be coming up here for months.”

“She will know. That woman’s like bloodhound when it comes to other people’s behavior. She’ll know the minute she walks in the door, and she’ll never forgive me.”

Blaine struggled to find a right argument against this insanity. “Do you need her to forgive you?”

“Do you want her to ever invite us to use the house again?”

“Not if we can’t have sex in it!” Blaine said, louder than he meant to. He took a deep breath and tried again. “She can’t have been serious. She offered us the house, Kurt. Do you really think she’d offer us a romantic Vermont winter getaway and not expect us to have sex?”

“We are talking about Rachel Berry. Rachel. Berry. Who does not live in the same world normal people live in.”

Blaine collapsed on the textured silk sofa with a frustrated sigh. “This sucks! Why did we even come?”

Kurt settled next to Blaine. He at least had the grace to look apologetic. “It’s only four days. And there are a lot of other fun things we can do.”

“Such as?” Blaine let himself pout. He didn’t care if Kurt didn’t like it. It’s not like he was going to be punished.

“We have this gorgeous fireplace. We can make hot spiced wine and curl up in the firelight –”

“And not have sex,” Blaine grumbled.

“There’s a Jacuzzi on the back patio. And a sauna in the basement!”

“Neither of which we can have sex in.”

Kurt’s optimism was starting to droop into exasperation. “Well there are two acres of private snowy yard. We can have snowball fights! Build forts! You love that sort of thing.”

Blaine stared at him. Kurt wasn’t trying to be mean, he knew. But Blaine couldn’t understand how any of this had ever happened. Blaine had finally managed to drag Kurt out of the city for four blissfully private days – how could Kurt not have known . . .?

“Look,” Kurt said, interrupting Blaine’s silent complaint, “I know you’re disappointed. But when she offered us the place . . . you know how Rachel can be. She was in full Lady Bountiful mode. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Blaine looked at Kurt, and thought. For several long moments. Then he got up off the couch and started to strip.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting naked.”

“Blaine . . .”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Rachel right now,” Blaine said as he pulled his sweater over his head, dropped it, and started working on his jeans.

“I told you . . .” Blaine could hear Kurt trying to put on his serious voice, so he shimmied his hips as his jeans dropped to the floor.

“And I don't think you do either, deep down,” Blaine continued, slipping down his briefs and pulling them off along with his socks. “I do everything you say. I am nothing if not obedient. I go where you tell me. I wear what you tell me. I love every evil thing you put me through. I eat it up and I beg for more.” He dropped slowly and gracefully to his knees in front of Kurt. “Scoot forward.”

“What?” Kurt asked. He looked equal parts stunned and turned on.

“Scoot forward, or I’m going to be leaving precome stains on this couch.”

Kurt scooted. Blaine smiled and leaned in to nuzzle at Kurt’s crotch. “I have been and will continue to be your willing slave.”

“What are you doing, Blaine?” Kurt asked.

“I’m giving you a blow job.”

“Blaine!” Kurt tried, but there wasn’t any force behind it.

Blaine stopped nuzzling and started unbuttoning. “Your pants are on. Nothing naked is touching Rachel’s couch. And I will swallow every last drop.” He pulled Kurt’s dick – his hard dick – out of his pants and looked up at his soulmate.

“In direct violation of my orders?”

“Yes.” Blaine stroked Kurt’s cock but kept his eyes on Kurt’s face. “And after I’m done you can punish me for it. You can beat me until I _scream._ Because we have two acres of privacy. No neighbors. I can scream myself hoarse and no one will care. We are completely and utterly free. And when Rachel freaks out and bans us forever, you can tell her your submissive went rogue and you had no choice, and next time we can rent an Air B&B like normal people and I won’t have to disobey you in order to get fucked.”

“You can’t . . .” Kurt’s voice trailed off as Blaine sank down, taking his cock into his throat all the way to the root.

For a long time everything was silent as Blaine poured every ounce of skill he possessed into pleasuring Kurt’s cock. It was a test of wills, but for once Blaine was determined to win. He stroked his fingers over Kurt’s balls. Kurt’s breathing sped up. He flicked his tongue into Kurt’s slit. A tiny moan escaped Kurt’s self-control. He teased his lips around the corona until finally, finally, Kurt’s fingers tangled in his curls and pushed his head down deep.

“I am,” Kurt said as he rocked up into Blaine’s mouth. “I am going to punish so hard for this. I’m going to beat your ass until I won’t have to worry about this furniture because you aren’t going to be able to sit down on any of it. Oh _fuck_ Blaine . . .”

Technically, Blaine couldn’t smile because his mouth was full of Kurt’s dick spurting come he’d promised to swallow.

But he smiled.


	9. Incident

“So I told Steve, just be grateful it wasn’t a cockroach! I mean, those Japanese beetles are big but at least they’re pretty. I think he –”

“Oh crap!” Kurt jumped up from the couch and threw what he hoped was an apologetic look at their guests. “I forgot the . . . Blaine, come help me in the kitchen.” He grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him up too, trying not to notice Jeff and Steve’s stares.

“What are you doing?” Blaine hissed when they were out of sight.

Kurt turned and fixed Blaine with his best accusatory stare. “What did you tell them?!”

“I don’t know what you’re –”

“Cockroaches, Blaine. Jeff just casually mentions cockroaches? And I’m sure that submissive gave me the eye when he said it.”

“ _That submissive_ is my co-worker, Kurt. And I thought you wanted to get to know Jeff and Steve.”

Kurt had wanted to get to know them. Jeff and Steve were the only bonded pair either of them had ever met who also had a big age difference, with a younger dominant in charge of an older submissive. But the thought that . . .

“Well that was before you told them about that day!” He glared at Blaine.

“What day? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy with me. Cockroaches, Blaine. The day I moved in here when I saw that huge cockroach and I screamed like a girl and jumped up on the tub and you had to come save me and . . . don’t you smile at me, Blaine Devon Anderson! Not when you –”

“Why would I tell him about that?”

“Who knows what you submissives get up to when you’re together and unsupervised?”

Blaine took Kurt by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Kurt, I swear to you, I didn’t say anything. And even if I had – which I totally didn’t – I’m sure Jeff would be much too polite to bring it up right in front of you on your first meeting. It’s a total coincidence.”

“It’s a total coincidence that he started talking about a cockroach incident?”

“This is New York. You know as well as I do you get a few New Yorkers together in a room, three topics are bound to come up. The unreliability of subway trains, how terrible it is to try to get a restaurant reservation, and bugs. They’re our universal pains in the asses and we can’t resist complaining about them.”

“Everything okay in there?” someone called out tentatively.

“We’ll be right out!” Blaine called back. He rubbed Kurt’s arms gently. “These are great guys and believe me, they’re just as excited to get to know us as we are to get to know them. Steve told me they thought they’d never meet another couple like them. Trust me, neither of them is trying to make you uncomfortable. So let’s not freak them out any more than we already have, okay?”

“You swear you –”

“On my honor, Kurt. On my submission. On my next orgasm, whenever it may come. I did not tell Steve about you screaming like a girl and jumping up on the bathtub and needing me to rescue you. It’s a complete and utter coincidence and these are very nice people and I bet we’ll all become great friends. Okay?”

Kurt tried to be stern, but Blaine made that face that always made him smile, no matter how hard he tried not to. “Okay. But if anyone _coincidentally_ mentions pink porcelain, you are in so much fucking trouble.”


	10. Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I barely associated this with the prompt, but my brain just did not like "joke."

“Please tell me you’re joking!”

Kurt looked up from the box he was digging through and grimaced at Blaine. “I wish I could. This isn’t a joke. It’s not in here, Blaine.”

“Well it’s not in here either,” Blaine said from inside his own box. “Did you check the box with the sex toys?”

“Why would it be with the sex toys?”

“I don’t know!” Blaine wailed. “It is kind of . . . How do I know how you organize these things? Your system makes no sense to me.”

Kurt shoved the box away with a growl and pulled the tape off another. “It should be in that box with all the photos and mementos. If it’s not in that box, we didn’t pack it.” He dove into this new box though, despite his certainty. They had to find it. They _had_ to.

“Don’t you remember packing it?” Blaine asked.

“Yes, Blaine. I remember packing it in the box with the photos and mementos. That box right there, which it is not in.”

“This isn’t happening.” Blaine sat down on the floor, head in his hands. His picture of dejection finally broke through Kurt’s anxiety.

“Hey, come on. We’ll find it.” Kurt scooted over to Blaine and put an arm around him.

“We won’t. If it’s not here we didn’t pack it. And the new tenants in our old apartment – they’re going to find it and they’ll just think it old junk and probably throw it away . . .” he broke off with a little wail and Kurt pulled him tighter into his arms.

“I know. I know, sweetie. This sucks but . . . well if it’s gone we just have to deal with that.”

“Kurt . . .”

“I know. It’ll be okay. It was important to us but not . . . crucial or anything.”

“How can you say that?” Blaine raised his head and glared at Kurt. “It’s not crucial? It’s crucial to me, Kurt, even if you don’t seem to –”

“Hey, did one of you drop this?” Rachel interrupted from the doorway. She was holding an old, battered wooden spoon. “I found it on the steps on my way . . .” She flinched back as Blaine exploded off the floor and rushed her.

“Oh my god, Rachel! I love you!” He picked her up and spun her around before grabbing the spoon and disappearing down the hall to the bedroom.

Kurt faced Rachel’s confusion. “He just . . . really likes that spoon.”


	11. Kidnap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little extra warning here for dirty talk - which we don't usually get in this 'verse. It's all in fun, but I wanted you to know!

“Don’t. Move.”

A body – Kurt’s body, Blaine knew immediately, he didn’t even try to disguise his voice – pressed Blaine into the stacks where he’d been shelving books and a hand came up to cover his mouth.

“Don’t make a sound. Nod if you understand.”

Blaine’s heart began to race, in the good way. He nodded his head.

“You’re going to walk directly to the faculty restroom,” Kurt’s voice whispered hot against his ear. “Go in and don’t lock the door. Strip below the waist. Stand with your back to the door and brace yourself on the wall. Understand?”

Blaine nodded again. His dick was already stretching against the confines of his jeans. Kurt’s hand snaked down and cupped it. “Well, well, well. Looks like I picked the right person to ravish. Are you getting off on this, boy?”

Again, Blaine bobbed his head. Kurt chuckled in his ear. “Go. Do as you’re told and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

Blaine so hoped that was an empty threat. Still, he obeyed. When Kurt’s arm let him go he walked away without looking back, straight to the library’s faculty bathroom, which was the private, one person at a time kind. He didn’t lock the door. He trusted Kurt implicitly and knew he’d intercept anyone coming to use the facilities. But the implied danger made him shiver as he peeled off his jeans and took up the position, hands on the wall, ass arching toward the door.

They’d played like this once before, when Kurt was still in high school, and it had been an incredible rush. The openness, the pretend danger . . .

Blaine’s heart leapt to his throat when the door opened. He had to force himself not to turn around and make sure it was Kurt coming in and not his boss or a patron. He trembled, but he held firm. He was rewarded by Kurt’s hand cupping his ass. “Well aren’t you an obedient boy? I’m going to fuck you now, since you’re obviously so hungry for it. Spreading your legs for anyone who grabs you. I recommend you don’t make any noise. These walls seem thin to me.”

The imaginary danger became more real when Kurt began to probe Blaine’s ass with slick fingers. Blaine was hard as a rock and the stretch and slide felt incredible. He had always been a vocal submissive. The need to voice his excitement was strong. When Kurt’s dick slid into his ass he let his head fall forward and muzzled himself against the back of his hands.

“Look what a slut I chose,” Kurt growled. He thrust hard, like he was trying to get off quick. His hand reached to wrap around Blaine’s hard cock as he hammered into him. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Walking in here for some random stranger? _Offering_ yourself, so hard and dripping?”

Blaine whined and rocked his dick against Kurt’s hand.

“Bad boy!” Kurt slapped Blaine’s cock hard and he bit down on a cry of pain. “I don’t care how turned on you are. This isn’t about you. Cock sluts like you don’t get to come. Cock sluts get to stuff their hard dicks back into their pants and _suffer._ ”

On _suffer,_ Kurt groaned and emptied himself in Blaine’s ass. Blaine’s cock burned for relief but he held himself still as Kurt had commanded. He felt Kurt’s dick soften, then pull away.

“Don’t you dare turn around,” Kurt whispered. “You stay right there until I’m gone.”

Blaine pressed his forehead to his hands and waited, panting. He heard the water run, the slide of Kurt’s zipper, then the door opening and closing. Then he finally turned and slid down the wall, only just managing to lock the door behind Kurt on his way to the floor.

* * * * *

A half hour later, Blaine’s phone buzzed. He pushed the last book home in its place on the shelf and dug the phone out of his pocket.

_Have you recovered?_

_Are you kidding?_ he texted back to Kurt. _I’m never recovering from that. What in the world got into you?_

 _I had an irresistible urge to kidnap you, whisk you away to a hotel, and ravish you. But I knew you couldn’t leave work. So I improvised._ Kurt finished with the smiling devil emoji.

_You kidnapped me to the bathroom instead?_

_A dom’s got to do what a dom’s got to do._


	12. Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ALWAYS happens at least once in every Advent. I get a prompt, I write a fill, and then the next day's prompt actually fits the previous days fill even better than that prompt did and I'm all . . . fuck. Today was this year's version of that. OF COURSE I get "language" on the day AFTER I wrote a fill about Kurt using dirty talk in a way he rarely does. I really do like to mix these up, but today I was just . . . fuck it. More dirty talk! Who's going to complain about that?! No one, I suspect. :)

“So, really, were you okay with what I did this afternoon?”

“Are you kidding? Did you not notice how hard my dick was while you were fucking me up against that bathroom wall?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve let you come. It doesn’t take much to get you hard.”

“Mmm. Especially not when you do _that_.”

“Calm down. You’re not coming tonight either.”

“You’re so mean.”

“Your dick doesn’t seem to think so.”

“My dick is a vile, masochistic traitor.”

“But, were you really okay? With me, calling you a slut and . . .”

“What? Treating me like a slut? Fuck, Kurt, it was so hot. How can you not know that? When you want to use words like that . . . it usually means I want to hear words like that. We’re soulmates.”

“I know. I just . . . I guess sometimes it’s hard to believe that we’re so perfectly in tune.”

“Is that it? Or is it that you’re still kind of ashamed that you want talk that way, call me a desperate slut or tell me how I only deserve to suffer?”

“It’s not exactly nice language.”

“But it’s true, Kurt. I am a desperate slut. For _you._ For your touch, your cock. For your dominance. And I do deserve to suffer because I _want_ to suffer. I want so badly to ache for you, for days and weeks and months. I want to feel like your toy.”

“My fuck toy?”

“Mmmm. There we go.”

“My fuck toy with this poor desperate cock that wants to come so bad, but can’t? My fuck toy who only gets to come when I decided he’s earned it?”

“Oh fuck, Kurt . . .”

“Who?”

“Master. Fuck, Master.”

“Tell me what you deserve slut.”

“Oh god, Master, I deserve need and teasing and denial . . . fuck I’m so close . . .”

“Beg me.”

“ _Fuck!_ Lock me up, please Master, deny me. Tease me until I beg then lock me up and fuck me and take your pleasure . . . no, no, _please . . .”_

“Excuse me, slut?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, _thank you_. I meant thank you. Thank you for edging me. Thank you for making me wait. Thank you, Master.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”


	13. Momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a really short one tonight. Fridays are always busy!

“Stop laughing, Kurt! How are we supposed to decide if we like it if you keep laughing?”

“What else am I supposed to do?!”

Blaine looked up from his position in the sling and gave Kurt a baleful glare. “This could be very hot. Could you please be serious?”

Kurt wanted to be serious. He did. But they were fully dressed in a sex toy shop, with Blaine strung up in a sex swing, legs spread wide, simulating . . . well Kurt honestly couldn’t let himself dwell on what they were simulating. It was too crazy. The salesman stood off a good distance, giving them privacy, Kurt supposed. He couldn’t imagine why. What in the world were they going to do in a public shop?

Blaine pulled at the chains holding the swing suspended from the shop ceiling. The whole sling rocked back then forward, until Blaine’s ass smacked into Kurt’s pelvis.

“Ow!” Kurt complained. “You’re not making your case with that!”

“I’m serious, Kurt!” Blaine said. “You could like this. You love to see me all helpless while you fuck me.”

“Don’t you mean helpless while you swing around randomly and I try to impale you on my cock? Which seems, by the way, like a recipe for a humiliating trip to the emergency room. And I am not you, Blaine. Humiliation isn’t something I get off on. Stop that swinging.”

“Why don’t you stop me?” Blaine asked, in his best breathy submissive tone. “I’m helpless, remember? You control everything.”

“I don’t need a swing to control everything,” Kurt said as he caught Blaine’s legs and pulled him and the swing close. “I honestly don’t get it. How would this be different from getting fucked the normal way? I tie you up. That makes you helpless.”

Blaine pulled his legs out of the swing’s stirrups and wrapped them around Kurt’s waist, holding himself in fucking position, if they hadn’t been dressed. And in public. He ground his ass against Kurt, then unfolded his legs again, pushing off Kurt’s thighs to swing backward again. “It’s about movement, Kurt. Momentum. Instability. I’m like a feather in the wind. Nothing solid under me. I can float in any direction you push me. With your hands. Or your cock.” Blaine sighed when Kurt showed no signs of bending. “You really can’t imagine how fucking me in something like this would be different? Hot? Anything? I mean, the soulmate bond alone should mean that you’re at least a little bit interested, because I love it.”

“We’re not buying a sex swing, Blaine. Get down and come look at dildos like we planned. And if you’re very good, maybe we’ll try out a new paddle too.”

Blaine pouted, but he climbed down. He gave the salesman an apologetic smile.

Kurt shooed him ahead toward the dildo section, waiting until he was out of sight before turning back to snap a quick picture of the swing with his phone. After all, Christmas was coming.


	14. Negligence

“Kurt?”

Kurt looked up from the sleeve he was sketching. Blaine was standing in the doorway to their office, naked. His face wore a tentative, hopeful smile. Kurt hated to destroy it.

“Oh, honey, I know I said I’d take a break at eight, but I’m still so behind. I need to finish this tonight, baby.”

Kurt felt like the worst dominant ever, but Blaine’s face didn’t fall. He still smiled gently. “I know. I don’t want to interrupt you but . . . could I maybe just kneel in here for a while? Where I can see you? I won’t make any noise.”

Kurt’s heart fell completely out of his body and squished on the carpet under his chair. He jumped up and went to Blaine, pulled him into his arms. “I’m so sorry! I know I’ve been neglecting you. And I hate it. But this deadline is kicking my ass right now.”

“I know,” Blaine insisted. “The last thing I want is to make things harder for you.”

“But?” Kurt prompted. “Did something happen?”

“No. Not really.”

“Blaine. If you don’t tell me I’m just going to feel worse.”

“Can I . . .?” Blaine nodded toward the floor.

Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him into the room, over to the desk. “Kneel right here, next to me,” Kurt said as he sat back down to his work. “Tell me what happened while I draw.”

“You have to concentrate,” Blaine objected.

“Blaine. On your knees right here.” Kurt pointed to the floor.

Blaine sighed – the happy kind of sigh – and folded down to his knees. He lowered his eyes to the floor and crossed his arms behind him in formal position, which made Kurt feel exponentially worse. He really had been the worst dominant lately. Deadline or no deadline, there was no excuse for that. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he commanded Blaine in his determined dom voice.

“It’s silly, really,” Blaine said. “I just had to deal with these parents today. They couldn’t seem to understand that their darling son is an adult now, and so I’m not allowed to give them his grades, or even talk to them, without his authorization. I kept saying the same thing over and over and they kept insisting. And I was fine, really. I handled it. But the father was the dom, and about six feet tall, and he seemed to think because I’m submissive he could bully me into it if he shouted loud enough. I had to threaten to call security to get them to leave. It was just . . . a lot.”

“Blaine!” Kurt dropped his hand to Blaine’s head and stroked through his curls. “You should have told me sooner.”

“You need to work. That’s important too.”

“It is but –”

“And I did come and tell you, when I realized how much I needed to.”

Kurt decided not to remind Blaine that he hadn’t wanted to say anything, until Kurt commanded him. “How do you feel now?” he asked instead.

“There’s just a lot of noise in my head. I feel twisty. It helps to kneel here though. Can I stay while you work?”

Kurt’s stomach clenched. Blaine needed him, and the dom in him insisted he respond to that. But he _had_ to get the sketches done. For a moment he simply stared down at Blaine, hating himself. Then he had an idea.

“Would it help if I give you something to keep yourself occupied while I work?” Kurt asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Blaine breathed. “Please.”

The _sir_ stabbed him. He should have known Blaine was so needy. He pushed his self-recrimination aside though, for Blaine’s sake. “I want you to touch yourself, Blaine. I want you to stroke your cock, get hard, and keep yourself as close to the edge as you can. Think about how I fucked you the other night, and you begged me for release but I just used you and left you hungry.”

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine moaned. He wrapped his hand around his soft dick and teased it. It stretched and filled under his hand.

“Think about that, and edge yourself and I want you to stay there on the edge until I’m all done with my sketches. And I want you to know right now that I’m not going to let you come, Blaine. I’m going to enjoy all the beautiful, desperate sounds you’re going to make, and when I’m done I’m going to get some ice and kill that gorgeous erection and lock you up in the cage for a few days. I’ve been neglecting you and I am going to make it up to you, but in the meantime I think some chastity and maybe a plug in your ass all day will keep you occupied. How does that sound?”

Blaine didn’t answer. He moaned again, and his head dropped sideways to rest on Kurt’s thigh as he stroked himself.

With a silent vow to do more to deserve his perfect soulmate, Kurt went back to creating the shape of a sleeve.


	15. Orange

“Please come out, Kurt.”

“I am never coming out!” The determination in Kurt’s voice was clear, even through the heavy dressing room door.

Blaine sighed. “Then at least let me come in.”

“No! You’re not seeing me like this. No one is seeing me like this. Ever.”

“You can’t live in there, you know. The salon closes at eight.” Blaine leaned against the door, trying to send moral support vibes through the wood.

“Too bad. They fucked up, they have to pay the price. Tell the manager I want filet mignon for dinner and a real down pillow and comforter. And I’ll take my eggs over easy in the morning.”

Blaine smiled. At least Kurt still had some sense of humor about the situation. “Very funny, Kurt.”

“You think I’m kidding? I’m the face of Pieta. If I walk the streets like this it’ll . . . oh god. Paolo’s going to fire me!”

“Paolo is not going to fire you over a bad spray tan, Kurt.”

“Bad?! Bad?!” The door flew open without warning and Blaine stumbled as he lost its support. Kurt’s face appeared in the crack, and his hand, pointing to said face. “You thing _bad_ is a sufficient adjective to describe this?!”

Blaine was not going to smile. Nope. Not in a million years. Kurt would kill him if he did. Not in the fun way. “It’s tragic,” he said carefully. “You have a tragic spray tan.”

“I look. Like. A Cheeto.”

“It’s not that –”

“I’m dayglow, Blaine. It’s horrifying and pathetic.” Kurt’s indignation began to crumble as the enormity of it hit him. “What am I supposed to do?!”

“Well, it’ll fade after a week or so,” Blaine tried.

“Rachel’s Hanukkah party is tomorrow!”

“We don’t have to go.”

“This is Rachel. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Blaine decided to try a different tact. “Well, we could get you a green wig and you could say you thought it was a costume party.”

Kurt glared his death dagger glare.

“Too soon?” Blaine reached out and took Kurt’s hand. “Come on, Kurt. We’ll tell her you’re sick. I’ll tell her. You know she’ll believe me. I never lie. And we’ll tell Paolo the same thing, and he can reschedule anything on your calendar.”

Kurt’s dagger eyes began to soften, just enough to give Blaine hope.

“And it’s almost dark,” he went on, in a wheedling tone that would sound enough like begging to nudge at Kurt’s dominance, “so between that and your coat and hat and scarf, no one will even notice. We’ll take a cab home, you sit in the back, and everything will be fine.”

“So I just sit around the apartment all week doing nothing waiting to turn back to a normal color?”

Blaine thought. “Well, my winter break starts on Monday. So I’ll be there too. We could, I don’t know, have some slave days? I could wait on you hand and foot and obey your every whim – we could pretend you’re a very orange Sultan and I’m your harem boy. I could wear those anklets with bells Cooper gave me for my birthday. Ooh! I could dance for you!”

“I might be persuaded,” Kurt said grudgingly. He was still pouting but it was affected now, all for show. He threw open the door and appeared in all his orange glory. “Bring me my coat, harem boy. We’re going to go home, and you’re going to call Rachel and lie to her for me, and then I’m going to punish you for lying to Rachel, and then if you take your punishment well you can suck my orange dick.”

That last part, Blaine thought as he went to fetch Kurt’s things, had to be a joke. Kurt hadn’t actually had them . . . had he?

He’d better start preparing himself. He did not want to know what would happen to the harem boy who laughed at his sultan’s orange dick.


	16. Pledge

“Mercy. Mercy, Kurt,” Blaine moaned.

“You know what I’m going to say, Blaine.” That and another teasing stroke of Blaine’s cock were Kurt’s only answers.

“Please, Master!” Blaine arched off the bed, chasing Kurt’s hand as it slipped away.

“Don’t ‘Master’ me, boy. You asked for this.”

“Don’t remind me,” Blaine sobbed as Kurt wrapped his hand around Blaine’s aching cock and began again.

Kurt edged Blaine twice more, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the image of Blaine twisting and gasping and babbling as Kurt tortured him with pleasure that was never going to erupt into sweet release.

“No more, please,” Blaine begged, his cock dripping in Kurt's hand.

Kurt decided to be nice. He gave Blaine’s cock a break and massaged his balls instead. Blaine whined and writhed under even this gentle touch.

“I can’t take it anymore. Please put me in the cage. Just lock me up.”

“I wish I could, sweetie,” Kurt said, all sweet solicitation. “But you made me promise –”

“I take it back!”

“You made me swear. You begged me to keep going no matter what you said.”

“Don’t remind me!”

“Tell me what you asked me to do, Blaine,” Kurt said, wrapping his fingers around Blaine’s red, hungry cock once again.

“Oh god, no . . .”

“Tell me Blaine.”

Blaine’s body went limp with another sob as Kurt’s fingers danced tormenting pleasure along his length. “I ask you to –”

“You did what?”

“Pledge,” Blaine panted. “I made you pledge to let me stay out of the cage for a month, and tease me, and not let me come.”

“Why, Blaine?”

“Oh please, Kurt, I can’t take it. I’m going to die, I swear.”

“Why, Blaine?” Kurt gave Blaine two firm warning strokes.

“Ahhhh! Okay, okay, because I missed being hard and aching for you. And I wanted you to really push me, so I could feel it for a long time. I wanted to throb and burn and . . . ahhhh!”

Kurt jacked him hard for a few strokes then pulled his hand away again.

“It’s only been two weeks. So . . . what should you be asking me for, boy?”

“Kurt . . .”

“What should you ask for?”

Blaine shook his head on his pillow and tears filled his pretty eyes. “I can’t Kurt. Honestly. Please don’t make me.”

Kurt paused then, just in case, and waited for a word that wasn’t just anxious pleading. Blaine’s tears fell, but the word didn’t come.

“What should you be asking for?” Kurt said again, command heavy in his voice.

In a moment – always Kurt’s favorite moment – all the tension fell out of Blaine’s body. Tears still fell but with no resistance, as if his eyes were just dripping water on their own. His mouth went soft; his fingers unclenched. The only tension in his body was his beautiful cock still thrusting up, begging for what Blaine couldn’t bear to.

“Please,” Blaine said in a breathy, far-away voice, “edge me again. Make me ache. Please. Never let me come. Oh god, master . . .”

“Two more weeks, Blaine,” Kurt said as he stroked. “You know I would never break a promise. Especially to you.”


	17. Quantity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt gave me more trouble than it should have! So we get a shortie tonight . . .

“Blaine! What did you do?”

Blaine put the decorated box down on the table. “I was walking past that thrift store next-door to Starbucks, and there they were in the window. I couldn’t resist.” He flipped the hinged lid of the box up to reveal his treasure.

“Bow ties?” Kurt said. “In what universe do you need more bow ties?”

“They were in the window, Kurt. Looking at me. How could I leave them there all alone?”

“They’re not kittens, Blaine. They don’t have feelings.”

Blaine gasped. “Don’t say that in front of them!”

“Very funny. Blaine you already have . . . how many bow ties do you have?”

“Sixty-three. Well, now it’s seventy-seven.”

Kurt didn’t bother to do the math. “Nobody needs seventy-seven bow ties, Blaine.”

“You know bow ties are my passion,” Blaine said with a pout.

“Bow ties are your illness,” Kurt retorted. “Why, Blaine?”

Blaine sighed. “Come on, Kurt. You know as well as I do that my bow ties are . . . well, like collars for me I guess. They made me feel good, when I was alone. I could tie one just a little bit too tight and pretend my dominant –”

“Well now you have me,” Kurt interrupted. Even years into their relationship he didn’t like to dwell on the subject of Blaine’s imaginary Kurt Hummel. “And if you want a collar we’ll get you one.”

“I don’t,” Blaine said. “I like that it’s a normal piece of clothing. Nobody knows that you pulled it tight for me before I left the house, or that it reminds me of you and your control all day.”

“And I love doing that, Blaine, but . . . sixty-three?!”

“Seventy-seven.”

Kurt sighed. “It’s too much. I’m putting my foot down. You have to stop. And these have to go back to . . . where are you going?”

“To the closet,” Blaine said over his shoulder, “to count your scarves.”

“This jacquard one is nice,” Kurt said, picking it up.

Blaine appeared like magic at his shoulder. “It’s vintage Bill Blass. It has a tag.”

“Wait . . . really? Are there any McQueens?”

“I haven’t looked at them all. Want to help me go through them?” Blaine shot Kurt a smug smile.

And damn it all, Kurt did.


	18. Realism

“Kurt?” Blaine called from the bedroom. His voice was full of confusion and concern.

Kurt, in the kitchen chopping carrots, winced. He’d tried to warn Blaine when he’d come home from work. But he hadn’t managed to find the words before Blaine sailed into the bedroom to change.

“Um, Kurt?” Blaine was closer now, in the kitchen doorway, looking as confused as he sounded. “Why does our bed look like Freddy Kruger tried to come up through one of our nightmares?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Kurt said. He sighed and pushed the carrots away, then faced his soulmate. “Okay, you remember a while ago you told me about that Wild West fantasy of yours?”

“I don’t . . . no.” Blaine confessed.

“You did! You said when you were a kid your brother showed you old reruns of The Lone Ranger. And there was a scene where he tied up some bandit and it made you . . .”

“Oh, that fantasy!” Blaine said. “I told you that, like, three years ago. When we were still in Lima.”

“Well I remember these things, Blaine. It’s what makes me the wonderful dominant I am.”

“Why do I feel like you’re avoiding now?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kurt sniffed. “Today Claude had a shoot before mine that had a cowboy dominant theme. You know, boots, chaps, spurs, all that stuff. It made me think of your fantasy.”

“Wait, you wanted to recreate that for me?” Blaine asked. “Kurt! That’s so sweet.”

“Claude said I could borrow some of the stuff. I was going to surprise you when you got home.”

“So what happened?”

Kurt bit his lip. “It was the spurs.”

“Excuse me?”

“I was all dressed up and setting up the straps under the bed,” Kurt explained, “to tie you up. But one of the spurs got caught on the bed skirt, then I fell onto the bed and when I tried to get up, well, the spurs kept rolling, and they’re really sharp, apparently.”

“Kurt! I loved that comforter.”

“We can buy a new one. At least the mattress is okay. All the feathers from the comforter must have protected it.”

Blaine shook his head. “But why did you even need spurs? You weren’t riding a horse.”

“Well . . . I was going to ride you, wasn’t I?”

Blaine blushed.

“And you know that when we role play – I aspire to realism. I may have chosen a career in fashion but I’ve always been a consummate actor. I wanted to bring the Lone Ranger to life! The spurs were very important to my character. I was looking forward to digging them into your flanks . . .”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t!” Blaine exclaimed. “If the bed is anything to go by.”

“Well I didn’t know they were so sharp, obviously. You could say the bed saved us from a much more tragic accident.”

Blaine stared at Kurt. Kurt held his breath, waiting to see if Blaine would forgive him.

“So,” Blaine asked, “did you have a white hat?”

Kurt relaxed. He smiled. “I did. I still do. And boots. And chaps.”

Blaine’s flush darkened. “I suppose . . . since we need new bedding anyway . . . it doesn’t matter if we . . .”

Kurt grinned. He stood up and looked down his nose at Blaine. “I’ve been searching for you for a long time, bandito,” he said in a John Wayne that would have put Sam Evans to shame. “You’re about to get what’s coming to you.”

Blaine held out his hands, waiting to be cuffed. “God, I hope so.”


	19. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going way back to the beginning again . . .

“Stay.”

“Blaine. I –”

“I know.” Blaine cupped Kurt’s cheeks and wrapped his legs around Kurt’s, holding him there in the bed. “I know you can’t. I know all the rules and your responsibilities, and how great your dad’s been. But god, Kurt. Today’s been . . .”

Today had been hard. No, that wasn’t right. Every day was hard, at McKinley. Half the staff still thought Blaine was a pervert, soulmate or no soulmate. At least that’s how it felt to Blaine, some days. Will Schuester still actively despised him, even though Blaine was the one who’d persuaded Kurt to go back to the glee club. It shouldn’t have been _harder_ having his soulmate, and it wasn’t, Blaine was absolutely certain that anything was better than his years alone, longing for Kurt. But sometimes, only sometimes, he felt like a man who’d been starving to death, now allowed tiny, tantalizing tastes of ambrosia that were never enough to sate him. Sometimes he wondered if having nothing was better than the eternal tease of bit by bit.

That was the day talking, Blaine knew. Of course, no matter what the cost, how long the wait to be fully together, having Kurt was everything. It was only these moments, when his need was so deep, his hunger so intense, that letting Kurt leave him felt like dying. It was only these moments when he lost perspective. There was no bigger picture. No future so close. There was just watching his soulmate walk away and being left alone, again.

It had been kids, at first. Whispering in the back of his classroom. Shooting glances his way. Before Kurt, Blaine might have thought that the girls huddled together were just sighing over how cute he was. That happened a lot. Kurt told him he was hot and that even Rachel had crushed on him at one point. But now, after Kurt, after their oh-so-public outing, Blaine’s brain always went for the most obvious conclusion. He was being _discussed_. In the submissive-teacher-kneels-for-his-student way. As an isolated incident, that was something that could roll off Blaine’s back. But then he’d run into Will and Emma during his free period, and after he passed them he overheard Will telling Emma that he’d be happy when the semester was over and Blaine was gone. He was a bad example the students didn’t need, according to Will. The rest, if there was a rest, faded off as Blaine hurried down the corridor. But it was enough. After that the glances of co-workers in the teacher’s lounge had taken on hidden meanings, and every murmur from a student as Blaine passed had battered him like fists.

Blaine didn’t know why today was one of those days when it was too much, as opposed to all the other days when he came home and called Kurt and said _I love you_ and was told in return and felt better. He’d been weak with relief when Kurt told him the day’s homework was light and he could come and have dinner with Blaine. “Dinner” had been grilled cheese sandwiches prepared while Kurt was driving over and wolfed down before they fell into bed. Blaine had cried while Kurt fucked him, alarming Kurt despite his assurances that it was good, they were good tears. Tears of relief.

But now, of course, the moment came as it always did when Kurt had to leave him. And today, Blaine couldn’t face it. He couldn’t be the adult. He couldn’t pretend for Kurt’s sake. He hated himself for being weak but he held on as tight as he could and murmured against Kurt’s skin.

“. . . horrible. I know I should be better than this. I just, I can’t. I can’t let go. I need you. Please.”

“Shhhh.” Kurt stroked Blaine’s hair and held him tight. “I’ll text my dad. He’s a dom. He’ll understand.” He tilted Blaine’s head up and kissed him softly, the kind of kiss that made all Blaine’s insides turn to jelly, and said the only words that could make everything alright.

“I’ll stay.”


	20. Transaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry guys! I did not plan on having a two-day hiatus! On Friday night I went out with some friends, fully planning to come home and write. But then I drank a bit more than I planned, and THEN I dropped my phone and cracked the screen, so I decided the universe was telling me to bag it and get some sleep. On Saturday evening I sat down to write and immediately my phone rang - it was my oldest friend calling me because her dad passed away, so we were on the phone for several hours (she lives far away) and I didn't write. I know you guys understand, but I wanted to let you know I'm back on track and fired up for the final stretch!
> 
> Today we're diving right into a little role-play . . .

“So,” Kurt circled the slave’s naked, prostrate form. “The dealer tells me you’re the best he has.”

“I hope so, Sire,” the boy said meekly without lifting his head.

Kurt came back around with a sweep of his velvet cloak. After all, what was the point of role-playing an emperor if you couldn’t toss in the occasional dramatic flourish? “Let me see your face, boy,” he said imperiously.

The boy pushed himself up onto his knees. He raised his head but kept his eyes lowered, like he didn’t dare look upon his monarch.

“You’re certainly pretty. What’s your name boy?”

“Thank you, Sire. My name’s Blaine.”

Kurt reached out with a silk-slippered foot and nudged the cage that trapped the boy’s cock tight and tiny between his legs. “And how long have you worn this?”

“Since I became a slave, Sire,” Blaine said. A shudder twitched through his body as Kurt pushed against the cage. “We aren’t allowed that kind of pleasure. At least not until we’re bought. And then only if our master chooses to be so generous.”

“Hmmm,” Kurt made another tour around the boy. He stayed perfectly still under Kurt’s scrutiny, the picture of obedience. “Tell me, do you want to be bought? And have a master?”

“Oh yes, Sire,” he said fervently.

“Even if it was a master who wouldn’t be . . . so generous?”

The boy moaned a tiny sound before he said, “Even then, Sire.”

“Why?”

Blaine’s cheeks stained pink as he flushed. “It’s what we’re trained for. I’ve spent so much time practicing, and waiting to be taken, I . . . I dream about it, Sire. I’ve been trained to offer myself and serve my master’s every whim. What am I if I don’t have a master? I would give anything . . .”

“I have a lot of slaves, Blaine. What can you do that they can’t?”

Kurt thought he saw something flash in the boy’s eyes. They didn’t lift from the floor; nothing moved at all. But there was a new tension in his muscles. An air of anticipation.

“I’m very good with my mouth, Sire.”

“I have a dozen boys in my harem who can suck a dick.”

“Please, Sire, I could . . .” He left it hang, an enticement. But Kurt could afford to let himself be enticed. With a swing of his robe he enthroned himself on a nearby armchair, spreading his legs and letting his garment fall open.

“I suppose a demonstration couldn’t hurt. Come here, boy.”

Blaine crawled slowly across the floor to Kurt’s feet. He was being purposefully provocative now, but Kurt could overlook that as long as he remained obedient. There was nothing wrong with a little fun.

“May I pleasure you, Sire?” Blaine said when he was close enough. His eyes were fixed on Kurt’s hard cock.

“You may try.”

Blaine leaned forward and took the head of Kurt’s cock in between his plump lips, almost tentatively. He slid down Kurt’s length slowly, like he was unsure and afraid of it, but then . . . then he just kept going, slowly, down, down, until all of Kurt’s not-inconsiderable length was lodged in his throat and Blaine’s nose nestled in the curls of Kurt’s pubic hair. He swallowed Kurt to the root and he stayed there, perfectly still, the hot flesh of his throat trembling around Kurt’s erection.

He stayed. And stayed. Kurt watched the clock on the wall behind Blaine. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. At forty-five seconds Blaine finally pulled up as slowly as he’d sunk down, sucking hard all the way. As his lips pulled off the tip of Kurt’s cock and he sucked air into his empty lungs, he dared one glance up at his emperor. His eyes flashed what looked, for all his obedient deference, like a challenge, then he dove back in to suck properly.

Kurt stopped him with a hand on his chin and lifted his head away. He was much too close to coming already, just from that one long almost minute. “Oh no. You haven’t earned that. Only boys who belong to me get to taste my release. Sit back.”

“Can any of your slaves do what I just did?”

“I said, sit back,” Kurt ordered sharply.

Blaine colored again. He pushed himself back onto his knees and bowed his head meekly. “Forgive me, Sire. Please, I . . . I know I was insolent. I have no excuse. But when they told me you were coming to see me, _me_ , oh Sire, I would give anything to be yours. The thought of you touching me . . . using me . . . letting me please you. Sire, I promise –”

He was cut off by Kurt’s come splattering hot on his cheeks, his chin, and, most significantly, his lips. Kurt stroked himself through his orgasm, then leaned close, collected a smear from Blaine’s cheek, and pushed it into his mouth, just to seal the deal.


	21. Understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, I'm sick. At Christmas. Awesome. Anyhow, right now I'm in a place where I still can and want to write. That could change thought, without warning! So if I miss a few days you'll know I'm just being miserable for Christmas. Hopefully not though! <3

“Why did you think I wouldn’t understand?” Kurt asked.

“I didn’t think that. I knew you would. I was afraid you’d understand too much.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with my silly insecurities.”

Kurt sighed. “Blaine. What happened the last time you decided not to worry me with your insecurities?”

Blaine squirmed a little but Kurt kept his arms around him, holding Blaine’s body against his own. Blaine turned his face into his pillow.

“Come on, Blaine. What happened?”

Blaine stopped hiding and looked up at Kurt with sad eyes. “I freaked out on the subway and I had to be punished – we both know this, Kurt.”

“And I’m trying to avoid that happening again.”

“Well I’m trying to avoid you going all dominant and deciding that it’s in my best interest for you to stop modeling.”

At that Kurt let go of Blaine and sat up in the bed, pinning him with his eyes. “Is it in your best interest?”

“No! God Kurt. Never.”

“Really? Because this is the second time – that I know of – that you’ve had a problem with it.”

“It’s not a _problem_. It’s just a reaction Kurt. A silly –”

“Stop saying that. What you feel isn’t silly.”

“Okay. A . . . an overblown reaction to a minor insecurity. When I sit down and think about it, all the positive things I get from you modeling outweigh any of it.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “What positives do you get?”

Blaine sat up then too, and took Kurt’s hand. “It makes you so happy.”

“That’s _me._ ”

“But when you’re happy you . . . you light everything up. You have all this joy and you share that joy with me. Did you know . . . when you come home from a shoot, there’s like this lingering dominance – like you worked yourself up playing to the camera and you come home with all this energy and . . . honestly, we have the best sex after your shoots.”

Kurt smiled. He even blushed a little. It took Blaine’s breath away. “I know. I love that. I adore fucking you all the time, of course, but after a shoot it’s so good.”

“And this,” Blaine waved a hand at Kurt. “The way that you love it excites me. The recognition that you get blows me away. I’m so proud of you. And yes, in some isolated moments I let those old insecurities get too loud inside my head. But that doesn’t mean I have a problem with you modeling. It just means it presents a few challenges. Which I can handle.”

“But not alone,” Kurt said.

“Kurt . . .”

“How about you promise me you’ll tell me if you’re feeling . . . challenged, and I promise not to jump to any career-ending conclusions without having a long talk with you first?” Kurt asked. “I want to know what’s going on with you Blaine. Especially when it’s something difficult.”

“You just need to know – I _never_ want you to stop. Even in those moments – even on the Subway, when I was totally losing my marbles – I never once thought, I wish he’d stop. I wish he wasn’t modeling. I want this for you just as much as you want it, Kurt. So yes. I promise I will be more open, if you’ll promise to listen and then fuck me and not change anything you’re doing.”

Kurt frowned. “That sounds like you doing all the adjusting while I just keep doing what I want to do.”

“Which is fine,” Blaine said, “because that’s how I want it too. As always, I want you to do exactly what you want to do. And if I have a problem with your cock being outlined in pornographic detail through those leather pants –”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Are you kidding me? The entire world now knows that you’re circumcised, Kurt . . .”

“You can’t be . . .”

“There’s not a single . . .”

* * * * *

“So,” Kurt panted much later, “I amend our new agreement. You tell me when you feel insecure, I’ll fuck you, and _then_ we’ll decide if we need to talk about it any further.”

Blaine wrapped his arms and legs around Kurt so he couldn’t pull out too soon. “Deal.”


	22. Vegetarian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry everyone! I got sick on Christmas Eve, was in bed for a week, then had to catch up on everything I'd neglected, then we had a big crisis at the company where I've been working. It's been nuts. But I'm getting myself organized again and finally writing again. 
> 
> So . . . did everyone do Rachel for "vegetarian?"

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Kurt put his phone down and gave Blaine his best apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But you know she’s on bed rest. If she could get her own cheesecake, she would.”

Blaine glared at Kurt from where he was spread out on the bed in all his naked, hard, trembling glory. “And why does it have to be you?”

“As you’ve told me a million times, she’s my best friend.”

“Doesn’t she have a husband?”

“Tim already left work to get her one,” Kurt said as he rooted around for his scattered clothes.

“So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not vegan. And he has to go back to the theater. He can’t get her another one.”

Blaine rolled over onto one elbow to stare down at Kurt, who was reaching under the bed for a stray sock. His erection stuck out hard and red, in comical contrast to his dismayed face. “Not vegan? Where’s the meat in cheesecake?”

Kurt sighed. “Normal cheesecake is vegetarian, not vegan. Which I know you know.”

“Well excuse me. My brain doesn’t work well when I’ve been cheated out of an orgasm,” Blaine pouted.

Kurt sat back on his heels and looked up at Blaine. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I was just about to come!”

“No you weren’t.”

“I was!” Blaine protested. “I was three strokes away. Maybe less.”

Kurt stood up and started to work his way into his pants. “I wasn’t going to let you come, honey.”

“What?! You said you were!”

“Yes. And I was going to change my mind at the last minute, stop one stroke from orgasm and let you beg me to finish you off for a while before I iced you down and locked you up.” Kurt slid his arms into his shirt and headed for the door, buttoning as he went.

“What?!” Blaine called behind him. “That’s what I’m missing?! That’s even worse!”

Kurt turned back long enough to give Blaine another apologetic smile. “Rachel needs me. But how about I promise to edge you for at least another hour once I get back?”

Blaine frowned. “Well . . .”

“And I’ll torture your nipples with the hard clamps while I do it.”

“You’re getting closer . . .”

“And I’ll bring back a vegetarian-only cheesecake just for you.”

Blaine fell back on the bed and smiled up at the ceiling. “I’ll be waiting right here until you come back.”


	23. Wire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to early EF Klaine for this one . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! For those of you not keeping up on tumblr or following Bitchmas, the past couple of months have been a little nuts on both the personal and work front - nothing catastrophic but a lot of messy crap to deal with. Which kept me from writing the way I needed to be. But things are settling and I'm trying to hold myself to a schedule again. I NEED my writing! So hopefully this "Advent" fic will be completed before . . . Easter. That may be a new record. ;)

“That’s it, sweetie. You can relax now. It’s all over.”

Blaine didn’t want it to be all over. He knew he should open his eyes and thank his master and let Kurt hold him until the fire in his body subsided enough that he could function without the orgasm he wasn’t going to have. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He stayed still on his back with his eyes closed, bathing in the pounding need Kurt had created.

Kurt’s hand stroked Blaine’s inner thigh; not where Blaine wanted it but Blaine would take whatever he could get. If a protesting whine escaped his throat before he could stop it, well, he was only human.

“I think I’m getting pretty good at this,” Kurt said in a voice full of self-satisfaction. He wasn’t wrong. The hot weight of a painfully hard cock resting on Blaine’s belly proved that.

Thomas and Mira – Kurt’s dom class teachers – had suggested he hone his skills by regular edging sessions where he tried to keep Blaine right on the brink of orgasm for longer and longer stretches of time. Kurt liked to pretend he was only following their instructions when he dragged out Blaine’s torment. He was still new to his dominant instincts and his love for Blaine often conflicted with his desire to push and test and even hurt him. But Kurt threw himself into the edging exercise with complete enthusiasm. He had to, after all. This was _homework_. Thomas and Mira said a dom had to work hard to achieve perfect control of his sub’s body. Thomas and Mira said practice makes perfect. Thomas and Mira said frequent intense, ecstatic, violently frustrating trips to the brink of forbidden release were instrumental in cementing the sexual bond between soulmates.

Blaine loved Thomas and Mira.

And even more, Blaine loved _this_ , he longed for it as only someone who’d existed on a starvation diet of fantasy for as long as he had could. To lie unbound, held still only by his obedience, while his lover wound him tight as a wire, so close to snapping, and skated his straining body along the tightrope between the pleasure and frustration he craved in equal parts. And Kurt, no surprise, was a star pupil. Blaine was supposed to tell him if he was getting too close, before he reached the point of no return, but even early on he rarely had to. Kurt just knew, instinctively, exactly where that line was for his soulmate. Kurt’s _Blaine_ sense was flawless.

And so Blaine stayed still, breathless, eyes closed, body burning. The dual nature of the exercise excited him as much as it freed Kurt. He loved lying naked under his master’s hand, with no control over whether his throbbing desire would ever reach its natural peak. But even more, the homework assignment turned his body into nothing more than a tool for Kurt to practice his dominance. Kurt’s approach to the edging sessions was clinical, like he was reading an instruction booklet. A young dominant doing his homework on an available submissive body. The thought made Blaine’s guts clench around a fresh surge of need and he felt precome trickle from his slit.

“Did you hear me?” Kurt asked. His hand on Blaine’s thigh squeezed and shook him gently. “The half hour’s up. We still have time to watch Project Runway before we have to be at my dad’s.”

The bed shifted and Kurt’s hand began to slide away but Blaine grabbed for it, blindly, catching Kurt’s wrist.

“Hey.” The bed moved again as Kurt sat back down. “What is it? Talk to me Blaine.”

Blaine finally opened his eyes and found Kurt’s close, blue, sparkly. He tried to make his mouth move but it was hard from where he was, with the collage of obedience and need and _almost_ filling his head with white noise. “Please,” he managed. “More.”

Kurt slipped his wrist from Blaine’s grasp and clasped his hand instead. “I’m not going to let you come.”

“I know,” Blaine whispered.

“Oh. So you want _more_.”

Blaine could see the desire in Kurt’s eyes as he understood. It washed over him, as powerful and alluring as Kurt’s touch. He nodded.

Kurt smiled that confident, dominant smile that made Blaine want to grovel at his feet. He took Blaine’s cock in hand once again. “How long do you want to go?” he asked.

Blaine closed his eyes and fell into his pillow with a sigh. “Forever.”


	24. Yoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Finally! In August! Of course! I've given myself three whole months to recover before Advent 2019 . . . ;)

“You have to come out, Blaine. If we’re late Rachel is going to kill me. I promised I’d fix her flower arrangements before anyone else gets there.”

“Did she really say you could _fix_ her arrangements?” Blaine called from the bedroom, where he stood starting at himself the full-length mirror.

“Alright no, of course she didn’t. But you know she’ll thank me when everyone compliments her on them after I’m done. Come out,” Kurt insisted.

But Blaine stayed where he was, making a face at his reflection. To say his costume was skimpy was an understatement. The leather skirt barely covered his loincloth-wrapped ass and the harness that adorned his bare chest was full-on classical bondage. He was blushing just looking at himself. Walking around a room full of people . . . just the idea made it hard to breathe.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice was closer, in the bedroom doorway, but Blaine still didn’t turn away from the mirror. He tried to pull the hem of his costume down just a little lower, to no avail. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure when Rachel said the theme was Roman Holiday she meant Audrey and Gregory, not Caesar and sub.”

“She will also thank me for rescuing her from a boring theme. Plus I was Audrey Hepburn at Lars and Bruce’s Halloween party a couple years ago. I never repeat a costume. And you are much too short to pull off Gregory Peck.”

Blaine tugged at the harness but there was no give. Black leather straps radiated from a high, strict collar down his torso and back, framing his pecs, outlining his abs, down to fasten around the waistband of his skirt. Bronze circles held the harness joints together at his shoulders and sides and in the center of his chest. Below the leather skirt his legs and feet were bare. There was no question the whole getup made him feel submissive enough to willingly crawl to Kurt instead of walking. But the thought of going any farther – out the front door, to Rachel’s party – made his stomach flip and his cock fight the restriction of its cage. Which didn’t mean anything because Blaine’s cock was a masochistic traitor that couldn’t be trusted to make any decision.

“Are you sure this is even right?” he asked, shamelessly trying to play on Kurt’s ego. “This feels too much like porn to be something a Roman sub would have really worn.”

“Blaine Devon Anderson.” Kurt’s voice was dark and dangerous, but Blaine was still too busy trying to come to terms with the mirror to look at him. “Are you insinuating that I’d make you a costume that was anything less than one hundred percent historically accurate?”

“Well . . . no . . .”

“I’ll have you know I copied that from a Roman subiugus harness in the Met. It’s an exact replica. Absolutely correct in every detail. As you, the former history teacher, know. Now let’s go.”

“Former history _substitute_ ,” Blaine muttered, but he turned away from the mirror.

And . . . _oh._

Kurt stood in the doorway, his lean body wrapped in an exquisite royal purple toga trimmed with gold. Elaborate jewelry – also gold – adorned his arms, neck, fingers, even his sandals gleamed with metallic accents. His features were subtly outlined with glittery makeup and a wreath of delicate gold filigree laurel leaves crowned his head. Blaine wasn’t sure if Kurt’s costume was historically accurate but he couldn’t have cared less. No Roman emperor could have held a candle to him. He looked like a god.

“Fuck,” Blaine whispered.

“Thank you,” Kurt said with an imperious nod. “Same to you.”

“Please say we don’t have to go to the party. Please say we can stay here so you can punish your subiugus for some terrible offense he’s committed, then forgive him by fucking him senseless. Please.”

Kurt laughed and tossed his head and Blaine’s stomach righted itself. “ _After_ the party. I worked very hard on these and we’re going to show them off. And then when we come home my subiugus is going to get an extra punishment for making me wait for him.”

All of Blaine’s fears and concerns evaporated in the face of Kurt’s imperious, imperial beauty. Of course he was going to do exactly what the gorgeous man who owned him wanted him to do. Joyfully.

Kurt turned on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He knew as well as Blaine did that his subiugus would always follow him anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is "yoke" and "sub iugum" is latin for "under the yoke." See what I did there? I decided that in the EF 'verse "subiugus" was the word ancient Romans used for a submissive. I don't speak Latin so I'm just flying by the seat of my pants there. Really it's all just an excuse for a little Roman Emperor role-play!


End file.
